


Sharp As Knives

by SJtrinity



Series: As It Was [2]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: F/M, It's the best friends forever best friends forever ring, M/M, i'm changing it up, title from a billy joel song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22525936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SJtrinity/pseuds/SJtrinity
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge, R. V. Burgin & Jay De L'Eau & Bill Leyden & Merriell "Snafu" Shelton & Eugene Sledge
Series: As It Was [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620760
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Sharp As Knives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaiaYukari85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaiaYukari85/gifts).



_March, 1949_  
_Dear Bill,_  
_I hope this letter finds you well. Frankly, I hope this letter finds you at all. I'm sending to the only address I have for you, but knowing you there's no telling where you might have moved on to. You always were the restless sort, I never could keep track of where you might be, even on Pavuvu._  
_Maybe you're surprised to be receiving a letter from me, close to four years after we last saw one another. I've thought of you often, but never could seem to bring myself to write, isn't that strange? It's a funny little story, turns out all it took for me to pick up a pen and start writing was getting hit by an automobile._  
_It's not nearly as exciting as I just made it sound, I can assure you of that. It clipped me as I tried to jump out of the way and I fell and took a decent knock to the skull. At the hospital, everyone was making such a fuss over me that I almost started to worry, but then I thought to myself, 'If Bill Leyden was able to survive what he did on Peleliu and Okinawa, not to mention his own wild youth, then surely I can manage one bump on the head.' And here I am, two days later, finally writing to you while Snafu stands over my shoulder and monitors me for, as he puts it, 'more signs your head's been shook loose.'_  
_Yes, you read that name correctly. As I'm sure you've noticed from the return address, I'm living in New Orleans now, and Snafu and I are renting a place together. I'm enrolled in university here and Snafu is working in construction. I suppose you could say we realized that the end of the war didn't have to mean the end of one of the few good things to come out of it, so we decided to stick together._  
_I've always considered knowing you to be another rare good thing to come out of the war, and so I'm hoping very much that this letter finds you, and that you write me in return._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Eugene B Sledge_

* * *

  
_April, 1949_  
_Eugene, you son of a bitch,_  
_Your letter barely found me, but you always were lucky. The address you sent to used to be my ma's place, but the family that lives there now are old friends of hers so they passed it on to her and she gave it to me. As you can see, I've moved, but not too far._  
_How the hell did you manage to get hit by a car? I can't picture you jaywalking, unless life in the city not to mention with that crazy fucker has changed you more than I imagined. Tell Snafu I said hello, and that he's got no room to talk about someone's head being too loose._  
_You know a good way for any pedestrian to avoid getting hit by an automobile? Buy one of their own, quit walking everywhere. That's my sales pitch, I throw them into conversation where I can to keep sharp and annoy the shit out of people. Yeah you guessed it, I'm a car salesman now. What can I say, it's work and I'm pretty damn good at it. I just keep talking until they cave and hand their money over._  
_Restless is exactly the word for it Sledge, you always did have a way of expressing things. I'm restless. It's fucking boring talking cars and kids all day long with a bunch of fatheads. New York's the greatest city on the planet, but I'm not like some of these idiots who seem to think there's no reason to ever leave. There's a whole world out there and so far I've only seen the ass end of it. Your letter came just in time, I was starting to get a little twitchy talking to the same damn people every day. Tell me about life in New Orleans, what you guys have been up to. Did you pick up any hobbies to keep yourself busy with after coming home? It's pretty common, or at least that's what the Doc told me at the hospital I was stuck in after Okinawa. I've picked up golfing. It started as a work thing, but these days I actually enjoy it. I don't know, somehow conversation is more interesting on the course than it is off of it._  
_It's not strange that it took you a bit to write, but it'll be fucking insulting if you don't write back now that you've started. I'll keep an eye out for your next letter._  
_Leyden_

* * *

  
_August, 1950_  
_Sledge,_  
_Florence couldn't understand the big grin I walked around with for the rest of the day after receiving your letter, it was that damn good to hear from you. I'm pleased to learn you're doing well, and that you and Snafu are keeping an eye on each other. I've thought often about the both of you and wondered how you were getting along._  
_As for myself, I've got nothing to complain about and plenty to be thankful for. It took close to a year, but Florence finally joined me here in Texas and we married straight away. Now we've got ourselves a sweet little girl, our Margaret Ann. I'll tell you Sledge, there's nothing like being a father. It's fear and love all balled up and settled into the body of a little creature that I'm lucky enough to watch grow._  
_I work for the post office these days. Florence says I'm bent on serving, one way or another and I suppose I can't deny it, although walking a neighborhood route and delivering letters to familiar faces sure feels like the other side of the world from life as a Marine. But then I think back on all the letters I sent and received while we were over there, and it'll give me a queer kind of feeling like maybe they're not so far apart from each other after all. And then I go and pull your letter out of my own mailbox and can't help but think 'God bless all the folk who had a part in delivering this little slip of paper to my home.'_  
_This is all to say, I've missed you boys, and I don't intend to let another five years go by before checking in on you two again. Thank you for including Leyden's address, it'll be a pleasure to write that Irish bastard, make sure he's not getting himself into too much trouble. As for De L'Eau, I've included the only address I have for him, but I'm fairly certain he's moved on. He gave it to me before Okinawa, and I tried to write him once and never heard anything back. Let me know if you manage to track the sly son of a bitch down, I miss his constant smart mouth nearly as much as Snafu's._  
_Speaking of Snafu, ask him what he makes of the new overhead-valve V8. Rumor is Studebaker will be releasing one of their own end of this year._  
_Regards - R.V. Burgin_

* * *

  
_October, 1955_  
_De L'Eau,_  
_That wife of yours really knows what she's talking about. I'll admit I doubted the lady a few times, wandering around Los Angeles trying to find all the spots she recommended. But hell, I found them, and I swear to Christ I've never tasted anything to beat some of those flavors. You tell Fran you don't deserve her, and let her know any time she gets wise and decides she wants a quality man there's one waiting for her here on the East Coast._  
_How's the forest service treating you these days? Between you and Sledge I know more than any city boy should about forestry and conservation, all I got to do out on the green to get everyone thinking I'm clever is start quoting the two of you._  
_Have you and Fran ever made a trip up to Seattle? I'll most likely be traveling there at some point next year, so if she's got any recommendations for me I'll take them._  
_Leyden_

* * *

  
_January, 1963_  
_Burgie,_  
_Happy New Year to you and yours. I've just returned home to New Orleans after spending the holidays in Alabama with the folks. Snafu came along and so I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear it was an eventful couple of weeks in Mobile. It was good to be with family, but it's even better to be back in my own home. I'm sitting at my desk looking out on my street, the neighbors are yelling at each other, but they've done all that before, they'll be laughing together on the stoop by tomorrow evening. It's hard to pin down and describe, this feeling of being settled some place good. Contentment doesn't do it justice, and neither does satisfaction, but they're a part of it. I figure if anyone could understand what I'm so poorly attempting to express it would be you._  
_I agree with you, it would be a fine thing, the five of us getting together in person. I imagine it'll take us some work, as we're all so far apart, and our various obligations just seem to grow, but anything worthwhile is an uphill battle, don't you think?_  
_How are Florence and the girls? Margaret Ann must be close to sixteen now, isn't that right? And I suppose that means Terrie Lee is five already. I got to spend some time with my nieces and nephews while I was in Mobile, and was struck by how quickly time is passing, how quickly they can change at that age. I suppose we don't ever stop changing if we're lucky, but I'd like to think there's nothing wrong with it slowing down a bit if you happen to find a shape that suits you. And it's a comfort, to know that some things don't change no matter how much time may pass._  
_Speaking of things that don't change, Snafu wishes me to tell you that, in regards to turbochargers, you never could see any possibilities beyond the tip of your own nose, and that it's just a matter of time before they solve the problem of engine size. I don't know why a postman who walks his route every day and a man who does all his traveling by streetcar are so obsessed with engines, but some things I'd rather live with than try to change._  
_Give those five beautiful girls of yours a kiss from us, and write back soon._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Eugene B Sledge_

* * *

  
_May, 1965_  
_Burgie,_  
_It's a warm night with a storm rolling in but still some distance away, and I've been sitting on my back patio enjoying a couple of cold beers. Fran's down in Los Angeles visiting her sister, and you know, I almost went back home to San Bruno to see some old friends but decided against it. Now I'm glad I stayed in Redding. Have you heard about these kids protesting and burning their draft cards? Like that'll do them any good. It seems like we aren't ever going to be done sending boys across the Pacific to die in droves._  
_Sorry. I'm in a black sort of mood tonight. I've been thinking about Captain Haldane, remembering him talking to Sledge that night after we took the airfield in Peleliu. Do you remember that? He said something to the effect of believing that we had a just cause, believing that our fight was worthwhile. This shit we're throwing our kids at now, I just don't see how anyone can call it just._  
_Maybe I won't even send this letter. It's turned into a bit of a confessional. Oh well, I might as well go on. You know, I got the letter you sent me, back in '46. I just never responded to it. I don't know, I was going through some stuff, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry about that, and very glad these days that you kept that address and encouraged Sledge to try again._  
_Since I'm just writing whatever the hell I feel like tonight, and since you're just about the only person in the world who I would ever ask this question to anyways, what do you make of Sledge and Shelton living together all this time? Fran downright interrogated me about the two of them several years back and came to a conclusion that shocked me at the time, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. They always were a pair, these days I don't really think about one without thinking of the other. Shit, I really shouldn't send this. But then, I can't see you caring about any of that, not when we know what really matters. How could anything else matter after what we had to learn over there?_  
_I'll have another beer and decide in the morning what to do with this bit of nonsense I've written. Burgie, you're the best man I know. This letter is becoming just plain embarrassing. But, as Fran is fond of saying, 'wine in the body, heart in the mouth'. If it's the truth, then it's worth saying, right?_  
_Best wishes,_  
_Jay De L'Eau_

* * *

  
_June, 1965_  
_Jay,_  
_You can't ever go too wrong, in my opinion, if you're using anything Ack-Ack said as a guide. I think about that man often, anytime I feel myself faltering I just think about him. Kind, brave, unassuming; we can only hope to live up to his example._  
_I find it difficult too, to not feel bitter, to not let it drag me down, especially when it seems like everyone's so quick to forget everything that happened, and not even that long ago. We just got to keep moving forward, even though it can feel at times like we're dragging those damn islands behind us on chains._  
_Damn, Jay, you don't have to feel sorry towards me for anything you did or didn't do after coming back home. Lord knows I had some rough spells myself, especially that first year while I waited all on tenterhooks for Florence to come marry me._  
_As far as Sledge and Snafu go, what's there to say, really? Snafu latched right on to him during the war, but that kind of thing wasn't so uncommon. I worried about the both of them after coming home, and mostly just felt relieved when Sledge first wrote me and told me they were sticking together. Some days I think they've made a mistake, hell, they sure haven't chosen an easy life for themselves, but then, they were always stupid stubborn in their own ways. And then I'll think about Florence and my four girls, and think about what I wouldn't put myself through to keep them close to me. When I think about it like that, I feel proud of the two of them for not taking the easy road. You didn't take the easy road either, De L'Eau, and I'm proud of you too, and proud to call you a friend. Hell, friend, that's not the right word. After everything we've been through, after all these years, we're brothers, that's the truth, and it is worth saying._  
_Regards - R.V. Burgin_

* * *

  
_December, 1975_  
_Sledgehammer,_  
_Merry Christmas from the De L'Eau household. Fran sent out photo holiday cards this year, and I almost sent you one of those, but then figured it'd be more fun to wait, so I can see your face when you get your first look at how damn well preserved I am._  
_I spoke to Bill just the other day, and it sounds like he's got everything worked out for us. I can hardly believe we've finally managed to collectively get our shit together enough to make this happen. He was talking nonstop about a steakhouse he went to while in Milwaukee that he thinks we should meet up at, I'm inclined to let him do what he wants, it shuts him up faster that way._  
_Truth is, the only real goal of this letter is to make sure Snafu knows that there's no fucking way the Cowboys are winning next month, he and Burgie are both deluded. But I'll accept their apologies in person when I see them, and you, in Wisconsin._  
_Best wishes,_  
_Jay De L'Eau_

* * *

  
Getting old wasn't hell, because Bill had been in hell, and people should really stop and think for a fucking second before they went and started comparing the fact that they were getting fat and soft to being in hell. But it was damn depressing, especially first thing in the morning, when he woke up and for a couple seconds forgot how old he was, forgot where he was. Those first few seconds, he felt sharp, blade sharp, felt sixteen and hungry for the world, for whatever he could grab of it, he wasn't afraid of fucking anything. Then the pain in his knees set in, that was always his first reminder that he'd already thrown himself against what the world had to offer him and been tossed back down. And then he'd reach over and touch the knobby end of where his finger used to be, and he'd remember it all again, and he'd get up and stump his way to the bathroom, pain shooting through his knees all the way, it was always worst first thing in the morning. A couple of years ago it had gotten bad, so bad that he'd taken to drinking to try and dull it. And then one morning he'd reached down to rub at the stabbing pain and felt something prick his finger. He'd looked down and seen a bit of sharp metal, jutting out. The Doc at the VA removed it later that day, told him it could happen like that, his body still trying to push the left over bits of shrapnel out. It could just stay there at this point, Christ, that had been a rough handful of months, he didn't relish the thought of going through something like that again.  
If the discomfort in his knees wasn't enough to depress the fuck out of him, then looking at his own damn face in the mirror always managed to get him the rest of the way there. The beginning lines of age, branching out to meet up with the shrapnel scars, mapping weird ugly patterns across his skin. He'd never been pretty, but hell, it was no wonder no woman ever stuck around. But that was probably because he was an asshole.  
He didn't wallow in it, what the hell would be the point of that, he'd just turn away and get dressed and out the door, because what else was there to do? He'd go down to the corner diner, he was a long time regular at this point, and Maggie always had a hot coffee and a newspaper waiting on him and he'd talk to her and the other fellas that got their breakfast there routinely and the day would go on from there, not good or bad, just life.   
He wasn't lonely. Between work and golf and the people in his own neighborhood, he had plenty of friends to pass the time with. He had a regular watering hole where he stopped in for a drink most nights. He traveled often for work or golf or his own pleasure, and always found someone worth talking to wherever he went. But what was idle conversation, what were friends, after a man's had brothers?  
That was what was missing, had always been missing. He couldn't talk about certain things to anyone else, even the guys he knew these days who'd served, and there were more than a few of them. Hell, he didn't really want to talk about any of that, even with those men he thought of as brothers, but even not talking about it with someone who knew exactly what it was he wasn't talking about would be a relief. Maybe he didn't even know what it was he wanted to say or not say to them, just knew he missed those fuckers.  
He had been low, really low, the day he stopped by his ma's house and she handed him that first letter. He'd looked down and seen Eugene's name written in the upper corner of the envelope and had felt something heavy press against the back of his eyes. He'd read it on the train ride home, and it was like someone had grabbed him by his shoulder and given him a good hard shake, woken him back up. Like Eugene himself was looking him in the eye and saying his name, firm.  
After that, getting a letter from Sledge or Burgie or De L'Eau always became the best part of his day, his week. Any time he started to feel too heavy, any time his thoughts started to turn dark, he'd pull out their letters and read through them, remind himself who he really was. He was Bill Leyden, he'd wandered the depths and heights of New York, had crossed oceans and hellscapes. He'd been thrown down, but he got back up.

* * *

  
He climbed out of the taxi with a grunt of pain, sitting still for too long made his knees ache like anything. He paid the man and took a turn around the building, working the twinges out until the feeling dulled. Then he went inside, gave his name, followed the hostess back to the table in the back corner, set a little apart from the other diners. Two of them were already sitting there waiting. They stood up when they saw him coming, Jay smiling with his whole face, bigger and more sincere than Bill remembered, Burgie smiling almost solely with his eyes, exactly the way he remembered. Jay seemed taller, Burgie shorter. The similarities and differences, both jarring and reassuring, piled up on one another, left him wrong-footed. That must be why his voice was so gruff as he walked up to the two of them and hugged them roughly, clung on for just a moment. "You sons of bitches, the both of you are too damn clean and old to be Burgin and De L'Eau."  
"Seems like you've managed the old bit, at least," Jay snapped back, quick. They laughed, had just started to sit down again, when Burgie looked over Bill's shoulder.  
"Here's the last of us, late as usual," he said, a smile cracking his face. Bill turned around and saw Sledge and Snafu walking in together, side by side. Seeing Eugene, really seeing him, how his hair was going silver at his temples and how the wrinkles were starting to span out cobweb fine around his eyes, shot a jolt of something like horror through Bill, he was that changed from his memories of him. But then he saw it, saw how he carried himself just the same, how his eyes were just the same, and then that was all he could see. Everything essential about Eugene was just as it had always been. He stepped forward, feeling oddly choked, and caught the man up in a tight hug. Eugene hugged him back, held on as tightly.  
"Christ, Bill, it's good to see you," he said, pulling back, looking him over. "You look good, look healthy."  
"Well it's not due to clean living, I can tell you that," Bill said, turning to Snafu, who had been standing beside Eugene, watching the two of them with a smile far too soft to belong to the same rough Marine who'd thrown them out of his tent their first day on Pavuvu. Bill embraced him too, was surprised by how solid and steady the man felt. "Shelton, you old asshole, you got something pleasant to say to me after all those cheap swipes you've been taking through Eugene's letters?"  
"Why start now, Leyden, I like what we got," Snafu answered, grinning big as he slung an arm over his shoulder, pulled him along back towards the table. "Get over here De L'Eau, you ain't getting out of nothing." He threw his other arm over Jay as he said it, pulled them both in for a surprisingly sincere, if quick, embrace, and then let them go. Eugene was just stepping back from Burgie, and Bill watched as Snafu moved up to take his place, saw Burgie's lips pull tight and his eyes get soft as the two of them shook hands, then pulled each other in, crushingly close.  
"Snafu, as I live and breathe," Burgie muttered, trying to keep his tone light but obviously overwhelmed.  
"Sorry," Jay said, and Bill turned to see him and Eugene standing with their arms slung over each other's shoulders, addressing the confused and hesitantly smiling waitress. Eugene's eyes were damp, Jay's smile a little dazed. "Old friends, haven't seen each other in years."  
"Thirty years," Bill said, stepping up on Eugene's other side and bumping against him. "So let's get a round of something about that old to start celebrating, yeah? How do you guys take your scotch these days?"   
"These days?" Burgie said, coming up with Snafu to stand beside the three of them. "Bill, I've never had anything but bottom shelf whiskey the whole of my life."  
"You're a supervisor now, aren't you? You've fucking arrived, Burgie, it's time to start treating yourself." Bill turned back to the waitress. "Three fingers of your best thirty year scotch for us all. Drinks are on me tonight."  
"Shit, Leyden, you may get me to say something nice to you yet," Snafu said as they returned to their table. He and Eugene settled in beside each other and Bill sat down across from them, in between Jay and Burgie.  
"You don't gotta do that, Bill, we can get our own drinks," Eugene said, just as polite as always, and Bill waved him off.  
"I wanna do it, hell, this is nothing against the river of drinks I promised to treat you guys to over there."  
"The amount of shit you owe me on credit from all those card games you lost, it's just about enough to retire on," Jay said.  
"Like you'd ever retire, it's fucking shameful, you enjoying your job as much as you do," Bill shot back.  
"'Sides, you'd drive Fran mad within the week," Burgie threw in. "How's your better half, De L'Eau, and when're you gonna tell us how you managed to snag her?" Bill leaned forward in his seat as Jay started to talk and watched him, watched them all. It was bizarre, the ways they were the same, the ways they weren't. Jay was scrawny as ever, going the way of most boyishly featured men, his few wrinkles becoming the sole focus of his face. He still had something mischievous and laughing to his expression, and he had also acquired a new habit of smiling without just showing his teeth. Burgie, meanwhile, seemed to be slowly paring back so that only his key features remained, growing sharper instead of softer. The bold nose and jaw, the bright blue eyes. His hair had grayed and was cut short and close to his skull. But for all that severity, there was something looser and easier to him, less closely contained. He gave the waitress a small smile when she came back with their drinks and handed out the menus, and Bill wasn't the only one who noticed how he naturally started overseeing the four of them again, sliding the tumblers around the table and asking what they thought looked good as he scanned the menu. Snafu grinned behind his glass, and Eugene shared a little look with Bill and Jay.  
"You ain't planning on ordering for us, are you Burgie?" Snafu asked, sliding a smile towards the rest of them. He was perhaps the least changed of them all, mouth and eyes grooved with a single set of deep creases, but his face otherwise unlined. Burgie's lips twitched, but he didn't look up from perusing the menu.   
"No," he said mildly. "I tried that often enough with my girls, like to drove them crazy. If they can't be sensible about it, how the hell can I expect you pack of idiots to be any better?"  
"How are your girls, Burgie?" Eugene asked. "Your last one's off to college in the fall, isn't that right?"  
"I don't know what we're gonna do with ourselves, Sledgehammer, and that's the truth. Florence starts leaking like a sieve whenever the subject comes up, and at times I feel like I could do the same."  
"I'll tell you what you'll do," Jay said. "The two of you will treat yourselves to that honeymoon you never had. Pack your shit in the car and come up and see me. Fran's been wanting to meet you and Florence for the past twenty years. She wants to meet all of you, actually, especially you Bill," and he leaned in towards him, half scowling, half smiling. "Stop fucking flirting with my wife, she's starting to come around to some of your wild suggestions."  
"I'm just trying to help you stay sharp, Jay, you gotta work to keep a woman like that." Bill looked around at the rest of them. "You fellas ever speak to her on the phone? She's got a hell of a voice, nice and low." He leered at Jay, who just shook his head and settled back in his seat.  
"You're just the same, Bill," he said, and Bill felt a shot of pure fucking happiness at his words. None of them had looked twice at his missing finger, or seemed to note the stiff way he walked. In all the years they'd been writing each other, no one had ever questioned his living alone, his traveling lifestyle. It was a relief, more than a relief, to have a person look at him and be happy to see all the ways he hadn't changed, to not expect him to be anything other than what he was.  
He rode that feeling on through dinner, as they ordered their meals and another round of drinks, as they took turns recounting stories from the war and the years after the war. Something sobering would work its way in every now and then but mostly they just laughed, ribbed each other gleefully. Bill tried to remember when he had last felt so good and couldn't.   
Their food came out and they all agreed to order a third round and Bill fell into a conversation about cars with Snafu and Burgie. Sledge and Jay were talking their own form of shop, some sort of discussion about forest restoration and ecological preservation.   
Eventually, as the meal wound down and Bill started trying to work out how he could convince them all to move this to the bar, or anywhere, so long as the night didn't end just yet, Jay turned to Sledge and Snafu and said, "So tell us about New Orleans. We've talked about nearly every city in the nation except for the one where the two of you've been living for the past thirty years."  
Snafu and Eugene exchanged a look, then dropped their eyes to the table, something shy in Eugene's expression, something uncertain in Snafu's. It was a strange look, and Bill frowned, tried and failed to understand it.  
"It's a great city," Eugene said. "But I suppose most folk will say that about the place they've made their home. It sounds canned, I know, but there's really no place else like it."  
"Kept us entertained all these years," Snafu added. "Though we don't get out in it much these days." He looked over at Burgie, that old fixed stare of his. "Pair of homebodies, can you believe it?"  
Burgie smiled, looked back and forth between the two of them. "I can believe it," he said, tone oddly gentle. Snafu stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded jerkily and glanced over at Eugene, who was watching Burgie with an inexplicably affected expression. Eugene smiled suddenly, the size and sweetness of it transformed his whole face, and he leaned over and bumped his shoulder against Snafu's.   
"Snafu knows every street and side street," he said. "He's done work on just about half the buildings in the city at this point." Snafu just snorted and popped his last bite of steak in his mouth. He was wearing a black and gold ring on his finger, it caught in the light and set Bill's head to rattling, chasing down a thought. "He mostly works on residential homes, for blue collar folk. He started out just working in our neighborhood, but he went and got himself a reputation, and now he goes all over the city. He's got a crew that he abuses, a bit like he used to abuse us," and he grinned over at Bill. Bill suddenly remembered where he'd seen that ring.  
"If you call a handful of boys who barely work and give me nothing but lip a crew," Snafu muttered.  
"I like them," Eugene said stubbornly. He was wearing a ring too, silver, on the same hand and finger as Snafu's. "They're good boys, just need someone to take them in hand." It wasn't possible. He would have noticed, would have known.  
Snafu smirked and leaned in towards Eugene. "I'm thinking you just got a soft spot for rough Louisiana boys," he said, and Eugene scoffed and shrugged him off, and Jay barked a laugh, and Burgie was smiling, and Bill couldn't fucking believe it, any of it. Eugene was fighting to not smile, lips pulling down in that familiar way of his, but then he looked over at Bill and his smile faltered, fell away. The other three looked over too, Bill could feel them watching him, somewhere distant. He stared at Eugene, at the ring on his finger, how close together he and Snafu were sitting.  
"Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?" He asked, even though he knew it wasn't. Eugene stared back at him, looking trapped and hurt, he didn't have any goddamn right to look at him like that. Bill didn't know what it was he was feeling, it was something next to fury, but that wasn't quite right. Snafu suddenly leaned back, draped himself in his seat. He was smiling, mean and mocking, Bill hadn't even noticed how different his smile was these days until he saw that old one pull its way across his face.  
"What's the matter, Leyden, the idea of having dinner with a couple of cocksuckers turn your stomach?" He drawled.  
"Mer," Eugene said.  
"Mer?" Bill repeated, dumbfounded. He looked over at Jay and Burgie, they were staring hard at him. Jay gave a small shake of his head. "All this time, the two of you, a pair of fucking - "  
"Bill," Burgie's voice cracked out. "Stop." Eugene was staring down at the table. Snafu was glaring at him, all hate.  
Betrayal. That's what it was, that was the feeling. "Jesus Christ," he said, shoving back and standing up. "Un-fucking-believable." He turned and stomped away, out of the restaurant.  
It was cold outside, bitter cold and dark, and he'd left his coat behind. He also hadn't thought to stop and call a taxi. He stood outside the door for a second, then let loose a stream of curses, and started stumping his way around the building. He stopped on the back side and leaned against the brick, trying to take some of the pressure off his knees. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smoke, lit it quick and sucked in a good lungful.   
Jesus, he was an asshole. Even in the moment, he'd known he was being an ass, but how _could_ they? This whole time, he'd thought Burgie had been the exception, and Jay, had thought that Sledge and Snafu were in something like the same boat as him. Worked over by those fucking islands, racked and changed until some things just weren't possible anymore. He knew there was something wrong with him, something missing, knocked loose and left behind a long time ago. Why else was he still alone, not able to make any kind of real connection? Why else could he barely feel shit, emotions coming through like muffled sound through a wall. The war was the only thing that was real, that came in clear and sharp, the men he'd known over there the only people worth caring for. He'd thought it had been the same for Sledge and Snafu, but it turned out this whole time they'd been building something together, moving forward and away, living. He was the only one who hadn't managed it. For fuck's sake, even Snafu had worked his shit halfway out, how the hell did that happen? But then, he'd been with Eugene all this time.  
Bill had liked Eugene, right from the start. There wasn't anything special about that, everyone had liked him, what was there not to like? Open and forthright, kind, but with a surprisingly quick temper, not someone easily pushed around. The fact that even Snafu had taken to him was just further proof that he was one of a kind. Bill had always thought it was a bit of a shame, as they wrote back and forth to each other over the years, and Eugene never mentioned a lady or any kind of desire to start a family. But he'd mostly liked it, it made him petty and small-minded, he knew, but that was just the truth. Eugene was living the same half-life as him, and seemed content with it. It always managed to comfort something in Bill. He couldn't be that much of a fuck up, he couldn't be that goddamn pathetic, if Eugene was there in it too, because Bill thought the world of Eugene.  
"Put this on." Bill looked over and saw that Jay was standing beside him, bundled up in a stupidly thick parka. He was holding Bill's coat out to him. "I know you're a tough bastard, you don't gotta go freezing your ass off to prove it."  
"Thanks," Bill muttered, taking it and shrugging it on. Jay leaned back beside him and the two of them stared out together at the dark parking lot.  
"It eats me up, too," Jay finally said, after the silence had stretched on through the different stages of discomfort and settled, become something companionable. Bill looked over at him and he grimaced, looked down. "It sounds backwards, but sometimes they seem like the lucky ones, you know? They don't ever have to worry about someone not understanding." His tone shifted, became harsher. "Don't have to feel embarrassed or fumble all over trying to explain themselves if they happen to wake up shouting in the middle of the damn night, shaking and crying like a - " he broke off, his eyes were flat and angry the way they used to be over there.   
"Yeah," Bill said after a moment. "That's part of it. But mostly it's," he cast about, tried to think of how to say it without breaking himself on the words. "It just seems like everyone else came home, and I'm still over there."   
"Hell, Bill," Jay said. "I'm still there too. I had to accept that a long time ago." Bill frowned and looked away, and Jay waited a moment before going on. "We never had any kids, and not because Fran didn't want any. She always wanted children. She left me, for a year or so, when she finally realized that I meant it, that I wasn't going to change my mind. I didn't expect her to come back." He tapped his fingers nervously along the side of the building. "I can't really say why. The thought of it, of taking care of some helpless little thing, just scared me shitless. And then I'd start thinking about how we were just kids too, when we jumped off boats and watched each other die and killed other kids." He shook his head. "I just couldn't do it." He looked over at Bill, a little diffident. "What I'm saying is, we've all been marked by it. You aren't alone back there."  
Bill thought again about that first letter. The mood he was in right now, it was embarrassing to think on how much it had meant to him, how much all those letters meant to him, how they became valued possessions the minute he laid hands on them. He looked at Jay and thought about trying to ask if they had meant the same thing to him, a reminder of something hard and sharp, unbreakable. They'd passed water, warm and metallic, between one another in silence and stared out across a bombed out wasteland. They'd huddled close at night and guarded each other in their sleep. When it got to be too much and all the other reasons fell away, you fought for the man standing next to you, and Bill had always fought for them. He could still remember Eugene screaming his name as they tossed him on a stretcher and took him away, that last day. He knew they'd been fighting for him too. He knew, too, that it would be a waste of time to ask Jay that question, because the answer was obvious. They'd all found something they needed in those letters.  
"Fuck it, alright," he said gruffly. "Might as well go on and get this over with. Start owning up to the fact that I'm a damn idiot."  
Jay clapped him on the shoulder. "It's all part of your charm," he said. "It's what you do, you're Bill Leyden. You talk a lot of shit and then have to go and dig yourself out of it."  
"Can't argue with history," Bill said, feeling something in him right itself at Jay's words. He'd gone this long without giving in, without laying down in the dirt and letting the world wash over him. He'd get back up and throw himself at it again and again. Falling hurt, but every once in a while someone would reach out and grab a hold of him, and he kept at it for them.  
He and Jay walked back into the steakhouse and back to their table. Burgie was sitting there, alone, nursing the last of his drink. He looked up as they approached. "They left. Said it was getting late."  
"Well, hell," Bill said, and Burgie's lips quirked up.  
"Paid the bill too."  
"They fucking would. What hotel are they staying at?"  
A little over an hour later, he was knocking on a hotel door. He'd lingered with Burgie and Jay for a bit, hashing out plans to meet up for coffee in the morning before they all hit the road and started making their separate ways back home. Bill had assured them that he'd see to it that Sledge and Snafu were there too, but none of that could happen if they didn't answer their damn door.  
"Come on, open up," he said, raising his voice and rapping harder. "Your bed's less than ten feet away, I know you can hear me." He wondered how long it would take before someone called the lobby to report some loud ugly man trying to force his way into a room. He'd been thrown out of a lot of places, but this would be his first hotel. Bill set his jaw and kept knocking.  
He heard the sound of a chain sliding and dropped his hand, and a second later the door opened to Snafu's flat stare and mean set mouth. "Come to finish that sentence, Leyden?" He said, opening up just enough to set himself in the doorway. He started to say something else, but then glanced over his shoulder with a frown, and the next moment the door was being opened the rest of the way and Eugene was standing there, looking at Bill with a careful expression.   
"Hey Bill," he said, cautious.  
"Hey Eugene," Bill said, suddenly awkward. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, now that the two of them were standing in front of them. "Listen," he said on an aggrieved sigh. "I'm an ass, I think that's been pretty clear since day one. So the two of you can just call me an asshole, or whatever the hell you want to call me, and then we can move on." Christ, please let that be enough, he'd never felt so sorry and uncomfortable before in his life.   
They didn't look at each other, just stared at him, expressions inscrutable. But then Eugene's lips pulled back, his eyes warmed. "You're an asshole, Bill," he said fondly.  
"Get in here, Leyden, quit making us stand in the hallway," Snafu said, stepping back to make space for Bill to come in. His tone was light, but his eyes hadn't changed. He always did have to make things difficult. Bill stepped past them and into the hotel room. He stayed standing in the little foyer while Snafu closed the door and turned around to face him. He knew he still wasn't really welcome.   
"I'm not staying long. Just wanted to tell you guys we're meeting up for breakfast in," he glanced at his watch, "fuck, just a couple of hours at this point. Wanted to give you the address."  
"Alright," Eugene said. He glanced at Snafu, shifted closer to him so that they were standing shoulder to shoulder. "Sure, we'll come." They had been standing and sitting together like that for nearly as long as he had known them, and all of a sudden Bill was struck by the rightness of it. They were just what they should be, it would have been wrong for them to end up any other way. It made him restless, all the things he couldn't say. "Was there something else?" Eugene asked gently, sharp as always.  
Bill shifted his weight, knees aching, everything aching. "Yeah, just," he stared at the wall somewhere above their heads. "Just thought I'd mention, I've been thinking about visiting New Orleans for a while now. Never been, sounds like a fun place. I thought I might come down later this year."  
There was a beat of silence, broken by Snafu's low, mocking voice. "That so?" Bill lowered his gaze, glared at him.  
"Yeah, it is," he said defensively. They watched him, Eugene frowning, Snafu weighing, and he huffed a breath. "What, I gotta spell it out? Can I stay with the two of you or not?"  
"Stay with us," Eugene said slowly, like he didn't understand common fucking English.  
"It's a small place." Snafu was giving him that old stare, intent and unblinking. "Only got the two bedrooms."   
"Well, you're only using one of them, aren't you?" Bill stared back, Snafu had a gaze that could bust just about anyone down, but he wasn't just anyone. Snafu's lips twitched, he started to smile, a pleased smirk.  
"Got us there," he said, looking over at Eugene.  
Eugene was still watching Bill, something solemn and vulnerable there, and it was a long, anxious moment for Bill before he nodded, slow and serious, like something easily shattered had been passed carefully between the two of them. "Of course, Bill," he said. "Our door's always open."

* * *

  
_September, 1976_  
_Dear Bill,_  
_Should you ever feel the urge to return to New Orleans, I don't know that I could in good conscious allow you to stay with us, after the state you left Snafu in last week. The man was laid up for two full days, stinking like the bottom of a bottle, insisting all the while that he'd caught a bug. I still don't know what the two of you got up to that night, and at this point am just thankful to God that I decided to throw the towel in when I did._  
_The emptiness of my liquor cabinet aside, the real purpose of this letter is to inform you that I received a call from Jay earlier today. He and Burgie have been putting their heads together, and are hoping that the five of us can align our schedules again in the near future for a trip up to Redding. It seems Jay wasn't joking about Fran wanting to meet us, although she must know by now what a charmless bunch we are. Snafu works as he pleases these days, and I can always make myself available in between semesters. Jay made mention of maybe going camping. When's the last time you slept out of doors?_  
_If for some reason your wandering feet do lead you back our way, I suppose I wouldn't close the door on you, provided you acknowledge the fact that Snafu is pushing fifty five, and clearly not in possession of the same iron constitution as you. I swear, I don't understand how you were walking straight the next morning, let alone how you made it to the station in one piece._  
_You take care of yourself Bill, and I look forward to hearing from you soon._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Eugene B Sledge_


End file.
